Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

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The Night Before the Morning After

A half century of habit is never easily booted. Friday nights still prompt me to emote with both internal squeals and sighs. And on Sunday nights, I still get that awful tightness in my stomach.

You probably know what I mean. You almost certainly experienced the same undeniable feelings. Sunday night always preceded Monday’s return to school. And I was always the odd sort who even loved school.

Saturdays just ended far too quickly.

Of course, I am on the short side of 60 and have been out of high school since Mr Ford was President. And I finished college before Mr Reagan ever moved East.

Like most adults, that anxiety continued into my working years, even when I worked on weekends.

It magnified once my schedule allowed me to maintain a more conventional schedule. Moments later, or so it seemed, I was on permanent disability. I no longer need experience any Sunday sinking feelings.

It has been five years and I still get that feeling. I still remind myself of my silliness and smile politely to my Id. The games we sometimes play are governed by odd rules, at least in the humble opinion of this odd sort.

Yes, tonight was no exception. I did, however, go into Downton Abbey knowing that I could dance until dawn. That is, that might be true if I were neither without inclination nor energy.

Ah, I allowed this post to spill into February, thus tainting the celebration of Black History Month and the birthdays of Mr Lincoln and Mr Washington.

I best dock my pay right now, Lillian.

(This 1962 painting, “Lincoln for the Defense” by Norman Rockwell, made me smile earlier. Initially, the oh-so-subtle colors aroused me in less than subtle ways. However, on second thought, it might’ve been the suspenders.)

Meta

The sandbox is always open, my friends, for those that want to share eclectic musings, surrealist images, and aural delights. I detect the melody of the written word and can visualize the beat in the song. That's perhaps why I think in ringtones and post in sound-bites.
But, most of all, I celebrate the moments and the small splendors that enrich our soul. My name is Mark Sieber, middle name of Dylan. But I answer to Vlad.
The long driveway here at Marklewood is flanked by large bronze urns of yellow peonies & azure-blue lobelia. Behind it is a meandering creek lined with ancient willows. And if we run scarce of provisions, there is always the bait shop down the dirt road.
My spirit navigates freely from that of Pied Piper to bookworm, from Lord Fauntleroy to that of a Bohemian crusader. You best pour a healthy cup of robust coffee or a glass of pinot noir. Kick off your dirty bucks and find a comfy seat.
I am a disengaged designer, obsessive scribe, and perennial recidivist currently living in the hinterlands of Raleigh, North Carolina.
Jon and I strive to be kind and to seek out those moments of hope that energizes the spirit that breathes both life and magic into Marklewood. He and I are both retired.
Yes, we have pets here at Marklewood: a dozen at most recent census. I refer to them fondly as the Twelve Noble & Apostolic Pusses, but they are much more than any label or moniker would suggest. All are indeed rescues or "next generosity" progeny, with four having been elevated to "indoor" status: Henry, Pfluffer, Hermione, and Claudja. The other eight serve sentry here in the stillness of an ancient pine woods.
Alas, poor Tartuffe has been missing since May of '10. Legend has it that he has embarked on some grand theatrical adventure, perhaps in New York or London's West End. But I like to think that his spirit hovers over head, and guards Marklewood against fear, dread, sadness, hatred and the small-mindedness that sadly taints and diminishes our humanity.
Often, the most potent of inspiration is found in random human connections, unexpected art finds, and the magic that cloaks our world.
"I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.” -- Arthur Rimbaud

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.

Henry’s and My Quirky Anecdotes and Reminiscences. We Seek Nourishment for the Soul, a Hope Made New Again, and Those Exquisite Artistic Finds That Can Stir One’s Loins. Of Course, We Still Search for the Prodigal Tartuffe Who Joined the French Feline Legion Many Moons Ago. We Have Yet to Receive Either the Slightest Word or a Lone Cardinal Feather.